Weasley is Our King
by Beyond Stone Walls
Summary: A collection of one-shots about Ronald "The King" Weasley. Most aren't very long, but mostly are of good quality. Please Enjoy! Review if you want more! Rated T for varying levels of content.
1. Mealtime is Better than Christmas

A/N: This is a collection of one-shots written by the role-player of Ron Weasley on our RPG site, Beyond Stone Walls. Most aren't very long, but are of good quality. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, and Warner Bros. Studios. If we owned it, do you really think we'd bother putting up a disclaimer saying otherwise? =)

* * *

Mealtime is Better than Christmas

* * *

Ron Weasley, 5th year Gryffindor, was happily stuffing his face full of his favorite foods at the Gryffindor table. For Ron, every mealtime was like Christmas-except instead of hand-me-downs, and awful maroon sweaters from his mum, he got delicious food!

Eyes closed in delight, he shoveled in a spoonful of mashed potatoes with his right hand, as he grabbed a turkey leg with his left.

_Like Christmas indeed!_

Ron, the food-addicted Gryffindor Lion that he was, grew more and more ferocious in his eating. If Ron had been an animagus-which had only once crossed his mind, before he promptly trashed the idea in favor of focusing on the pain in his broken leg the end of his 3rd year-he would have been a lion. Or a bear. Or some animal that eats a lot. But-here Ron internally shuddered, before ploughing more food into his mouth-definitely _not_a spider.

Whatever the case, Ron's fervor and ferocity gained him a few odd (and probably also disgusted) looks from all across the hall. In his haste, he accidentally knocked a goblet over, spilling liquid all over the table. Before it could do any serious damage, however, the goblet and offending liquid disappeared, and a new goblet with new pumpkin juice replaced it in almost a blink of an eye. Ron, of course did not notice this. However, Ron felt a tiny splash of some liquid on hand and looked around, turkey leg still in his mouth. All he saw was a group of students' retreating backs. Shrugging, he chewed the meat some more before setting the now-meatless bone on his plate-which promptly disappeared, leaving the golden dish as spotless as it was before Ron sat down.

Stuffing more mashed potatoes into his mouth, he got ahead of himself by attempting to swallow without chewing, prompting him to start gagging. Reaching wildly for his goblet with one hand, the other grabbing at his throat, Ron's eyes widened as the choking sensation increased. Smashing the table with his hand, grasping for his pumpkin juice, he finally found his goblet and drank heavily from it. Juice poured out the sides of his mouth in his extreme effort to wash the offending food down his throat and into his stomach where it belonged.

Succeeding, he grinned widely as he stood up and wiped his mouth with his robe's sleeve, his other hand holding the goblet up in victorious triumph. Suddenly, a slightly cloudy feeling came over him, and Ron sat back down, his body lurched forward and his face landing, finally, in the mashed potatoes.

All that could be heard from the poor boy was a loud groan.


	2. Butterbeer and Barmaids

A/N: Another quick little one-shot written by the role-player of Ron Weasley on our RPG site, Beyond Stone Walls. Most aren't very long, but are of good quality. Please Enjoy!

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Butterbeer and Barmaids

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The atmosphere at The Three Broomsticks was warm and festive, and obnoxiously loud. Madam Rosmerta, a curvy sort of woman with a pretty face, could be seen bustling around behind her counter winking and laughing at the obvious flirtations of some of the older students (not to mention one extremely forward third year boy). The tables were full and students were chattering happily to each other, all drinking butterbeer and enjoying their temporary escape from the cold.

Alone at a single table near the entrance of the place, however, was one Ron Weasley. He was rather broody, as he had come to Hogsmeade alone. Staring into his mug of butterbeer, sound that was the students talking and laughing all seemed to blur together into a buzz of indecipherable nonsensical noise.

The Yule Ball was soon, and Ron Weasley simply did not have a date. He had contemplated asking Hermione, but quickly put that thought out of his head. He remembered the fiasco the year before, and while he would forever regret not asking Hermione before _Vicky_ did, he also wasn't even sure he wanted to even _go_this year.

That being said, Lavender Brown had been looking more and more attractive lately, and Ron wasn't sure why that was. Something about hormones and growing up, he reckoned, but Ron had always found her so... _annoying_. But lately, he had found her much less irritating, and much more... _attractive_.

Shaking his head, he stared into the mug once again, watching as the butterbeer swirled within. _Why do girls have to be so bloody complicated?_

Sighing, he slowly raised the mug to his lips, and took a sip. The warm liquid pouring down his throat, he immediately started to feel more cheery. _Rosmerta must put something in her butterbeer... _Glancing over at the bar matron, she looked up towards Ron and their eyes met. As she winked at him, Ron quickly turned back around in his seat, tips of his ears turning deep red.

_Bloody hormones!_


	3. Mourning Breaks

A/N: This is a collection of one-shots written by the role-player of Ron Weasley on our RPG site, Beyond Stone Walls. Most aren't very long, but are of good quality. Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, and Warner Bros. Studios. If we owned it, do you really think we'd bother putting up a disclaimer saying otherwise? =)

* * *

Mourning Breaks

* * *

The entire trip over to the hospital had been somewhat of a quiet (if not incredibly bumpy) affair. The news that his father, Arthur Weasley, had been attacked by some kind of magical snake in the Department of Mysteries had been frightening, and Ron had secret fears that his father might never recover.

The Knight Bus had been quite the adventure. The conductor, Stan Shunpike, was a real laugh, even if his face _did _remind him of Eloise Midgen's.

_Perhaps they're related? _Ron mused to himself.

His father, it turned out, was doing rather well. He was awake, and smilng, which relieved much of the heavy burden that was laboring upon Ron's worried heart. The fact that he had gotten those Muggle "stitches" in an attempt to close the magical wound was enough to bring a smile to Ron's face. Only his father, the muggle-loving, ever cheerful man that he was, would attempt something so... _simple_.

It hadn't worked, but it was enough to make Ron smile and wince. The wince was mostly caused by his mother's loud shrieking at his father's stupidity over such a thing, but the smile was existent just the same.

The truly scary thing about all of this, however, was that Harry had _seen_ this happen. Ron wasn't a believer in Divination (hell, Trelawney had made sure of that), but Harry was _seeing_ things that he shouldn't be seeing. His dreams before had _always_ been of a mysterious door (as far as he knew), but now Harry had seen both the door _and _the attack. It was enough to make Ron shiver.

His thoughts returning to his father, Ron and his family were assured by the Head Healer that he would be released relatively soon (possibly even by Christmas!), but they were welcome to visit him as often as they'd like.

Gone were the times to be weak-hearted. Ron made a promise to himself then and there, that he would be strong in the face of adversary. He needed to be sure that he could protect his family.

Ron could only hope he would be able to keep that promise forever.


	4. Bottomless Pit

A/N: This is a collection of one-shots written by the role-player of Ron Weasley on our RPG site, Beyond Stone Walls. Most aren't very long, but are of good quality. Please Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, and Warner Bros. Studios. If we owned it, do you really think we'd bother putting up a disclaimer saying otherwise? =)

* * *

Bottomless Pit

* * *

Ronald Bilius Weasley and mornings were _not _friends. In fact, one could almost say that they were almost enemies. Ron would finally be able to get to sleep at night, only to be woken up either by Harry's nightmares (bless his soul, the poor lad), or by his own alarm clock in the morning. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation for Ron.

The only thing that Ron _ever_ looked forward to in the mornings was breakfast in the Great Hall. All the pancakes, delicious-looking poutine, sausages, eggs, and maple syrup he could eat. If there was one thing that Ron loved more than life itself, it was food. Stuffing his face, he almost moaned out loud. The food here was almost as good as his own mother's, and _that _was saying something.

The bell sounded, signalling the end of Breakfast. Finishing what he was eating, Ron stood up and grabbed his book bag, and his tuque. It _was_a rather chilly day in December, after all. Perhaps later, he'd go outside and start flinging snow. There were usually students involved in a snowball fight of some kind or another.

Ron walked briskly down to the Kitchens.

_Thank Merlin for it being a Saturday, __eh__? _Ron thought happily to himself. Tickling the pear, he watched as it giggled and turned into a doorknob. Grasping the knob, he pulled the door open only to find himself staring at dozens upon dozens of house-elves. Their large, tennis-ball sized eyes stared back at him for a moment, before several rushed up to him and bowed low, asking him how they could be of service.

"Erm... Well, breakfast kind of just ended, and I'm still hungry... D'you reckon you could give me some more food?" Ron asked awkwardly. He felt several tiny hands grab his own, and push him towards a tiny table. Quickly, the table was soon filled with all sorts of foods. Chinook salmons, what appeared to be roasted oxen, and all sorts of other delicious and wonderful looking food was soon pushed in front of him, with more and more being carried over by the happy little workers.

_"I lub 'ou guys!"_ Ron exclaimed in-between mouthfuls of food, missing the looks of shock and the tears that were starting to well in several elves' eyes. Instead, munching happily, he was pleased to find that he was _finally_ getting full. Asking quickly for help packing up some food so he could take it with him, he thanked them and ducked out of the Kitchens, just in time to miss a metaphorical (as well as partially literal) flood of tears.

Heading outside, Ron pulled his large winter cloak around him more, helping to shield from the wind chill. It was softly snowing outside, and Ron didn't want to run the risk of having his Saturday ruined by being forced to go to the Hospital Wing for being a bloody idiot in the cold.

As he walked around the grounds, he discovered to his delight a snowball fight in progress. Unfortunately, as they were all Slytherins, he didn't dare even try to get involved. Nevertheless it cheered him immensely. Continuing on his adventure on the grounds, he noticed two other students attempting to build an igloo. Laughing, he remembered when he had overheard a fellow Gryffindor try and explain about his home country of Canada and how igloos had been discussed.

For the life of him, Ron couldn't remember the full extent of the conversation, but he had always thought it was funny that for sport muggles would skate around on ice, using sticks to hit a small black rock around and beat each other up for the fun of it. What was it named again? Sockey, Hockey, Sticky?

No, no, no.

None of those were right. Giving up, Ron sighed and pulled out a Red Vine.

Thank Merlin the House-Elves had some lying around in the Kitchen!

The lunch bell rang, and Ron looked back towards the castle. Smiling, he walked back in the direction of the Great Hall.

Today, Ron decided, was _definitely_ a good day.


End file.
